


Completion

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [33]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bellamione Cult War, Blood Magic, Dark Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Horcruxes, Ritual Magic, Sane Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Team Furbae, runic magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 14:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Bellatrix dabbles in Ritual Magic; Hermione dabbles with her.





	Completion

There was something delightfully unsavory about drowning herself beneath ritual magic that hadn’t been tested or performed in nearly four hundred years. To go along with that thrill there was something pumping adrenaline through her veins even higher; this ritual being the darkest of them all.

_ Horcrux. _

It was a dark thing; broken magic that twisted and splintered the soul so that it could shove a jagged shard into something, or someone, else. All of her research pointed to the possibility that success could be had if the Focus was living instead of inanimate, all signs pointed to _ yes. _ Boon to her still wavering mind had been the darkness swirling throughout her heart that spoke with breathless whispers of the manner of her ascension, and _ His _ words only strengthened that. 

Hell, He had practically shoved the aged tome into her hands, a fierce spark behind His eyes and gruffness to His words making it known that this was a command, and not a mere suggestion.

Of course it had been her own actions that took the whole damned thing too far after that, she hadn’t been secure enough in herself to only pluck at her own heartstrings, and so had invited another. After all, this venture was for more than the expansion of knowledge; it was to blast ahead further than anyone had gone before, while still managing to show back up the next day to recount the whole sordid event.

It helped her that Hermione’s mind worked very much like her own, was just as dark and twisted and wrapped about the accumulation and use of knowledge like some spiked support beam. Nothing in their lives was worth doing unless the action itself was _ worth _ something.

And dual immortality was certainly worth a lot.

Pale skin dotted with freckles and aged scars yielded beneath the heavy press of the sharpened steel that Bellatrix held with a precise grasp. There was no moment of give, no force or pressured push back, red turning to well up beneath the thin lines that she crisscrossed against Hermione’s back. She had more than a few lines remaining, a few waiting blocks and whirling sigils, but the largest and by far most intricate rune was now finished; a whirling spread of ancient tongues patterning the skin from her neck on down her back.

Bellatrix’s head dipped low to taste the ichor spilling over her lover's shoulders, the skin on her own giving the slightest twinge of heat and pain when the duplication spell took hold. 

She hadn’t quite been sure that the spell would help them here, would transfer engravings and carvings just as well as it handled calligraphy and careful notes.

More experimentation; worthy knowledge in service to something higher.

Even if the magic had failed them she would have simply needed to wait until the witch below her was complete, let her blood dry before laying down for her own markings. That would have taken precious time however, and the annoyance would have been a bother. But, well, it hadn’t been necessary after all, the magic working well enough to carve its way along her spine with practiced marks that left her ecstatic with the knowledge that she could complete the ritual at the same time as Hermione.

Her exhales were a warm balm against Hermione’s tortured skin, a hint of citrus and something earthen rolling when she stuttered through an inhale. If the pounding warmth swirling through her core was mirrored by the body beneath her, she was given no indication or acknowledgement, the witch remaining a silent participant even up until this point.

She fixed that with a sharp bite, teeth digging grooves into the backside of Hermione’s neck until witch released a hiss of pain, pleasure tainting it as her heartbeat ran to match the staccato rhythm of Bellatrix’s own. She released the grip to ghost sharp tipped fingers against the indents, tip-tap tapping where the blood rushed back up to meet the surface, bone white next to pale white and her free hand itching for more.

“Well then,” came the soft voice of the mirror below her, body moving slightly with the exhalation, “Are you done yet?”

“No,” she placed her forehead against overheated skin, lips pressing down to meet blood and iron, “Soon.”

“Then finish it up, before I fall asleep.”

She nodded and raised up to oblige the witch, body leaning backwards as she straddled the curving muscle of Hermione’s thighs, fingers hurrying to continue their work. Soon, soon enough she would be completed, soon enough they could begin, soon enough she could carve and mark and drain the poor sod laying off to the side in a trussed up state with wide eyes and immobile limbs.

They had a time schedule to meet after all, a debriefing with _ Him, _ and if the task wasn’t completed by then she didn’t know what she would do, or say. Would placating Him be possible? Would simple words even suffice? Or would He simply take His disappointment out on their sorry forms, His wand wringing scream after scream until He was sure they were both appropriately apologetic.

Best not waste His time, and best not waste theirs.

\---

It took somewhere close to another hour to finish up the carving, but by the time the deed was done there wasn’t a single speck of pale white skin left along her back; all flesh mired and filmed beneath a rusty sheen of blood and blackened lines that swam with embedded charcoal. She rose up off the woman with a ragged breath that led to ragged steps, pulling and grasping to get the younger witch on her feet. Warm flesh met flesh as Hermione leaned into her body, panting breath and skin all slick with their efforts. Tingles and spikes of static ripped across their bare skin, darkness swirling throughout the room to flush them with a heady mix of lust and energy.

The space around them was positively crackling with unused potential, had been ever since the first cut actually, but now that their initial preparations were complete where once there had been small sparks and barely seen light, now deep ripples of electricity were bridging the gap between them, between the ritual space, between the knives and runes and blood. This ritual room was much like any other that dotted and graced the world, empty and barren of all magic except that which they invited or brought with them, and this one ritual was certainly more than enough to pull in _ true _ darkness. Her head was swimming beneath the pressure of it all as she separated herself from the blood-marked skin of Hermione, body sauntering off towards their catch, their catalyst, their release.

The man was average in every sense of the word; average height, average build, brown hair that that wouldn’t be out of place among any other man walking around the Muggle world, his skin tan and young enough to still be unmarred by the passages and woes of time. He was cute, if she was honest, in an _ ‘I’m about to have my chest carved open,’ _ kind of way.

Oops.

She must have said that little thought out loud, or let her emotions spill outwards through the grin stretched across her face, his form shivering and trembling as he frantically tried to distance himself from her steady walk. No use though, her magic was impeccable and the only movement he was able to make were frightened eyes that dashed between herself and the iron door that shut them out from the rest of the Manor. She would need to fix this though, wouldn’t she? Couldn’t have all this negative emotion weigh them down after all, the high she was riding was much too good to be marred by sorrowful anticipation.

A simple flick of her wrist wrenched him out from the corner he had been propped into, the air crackling and distorting with the release of magic that fed on itself until each swipe through the air echoed back at them with trailing sparks and a shimmering mirage; the woman at her back now panting heavily as their rune-marks soaked it all back up.

It was time, now, soon, far quicker than she had anticipated. 

But no less welcome.

She took precious seconds to strip and lock the sacrifice into the waiting runic circle; crushed pyrite and gypsum spread all around him until its enveloping call pulsed on all sides, intricate patterns painted atop his skin with a mixture of powdered charcoal and lavender oil turning blue, then red, as the magic fed itself into a release. The heavy drum of ancient magic began to beat upon their hearts with a rhythm that matched their soul, burning, echoing, feeding and looping-

Hermione crashed up against her with an audible smack of naked flesh, her arms a pair of warm locks that ground and pulled at her until she was nothing more than the aching bliss between her legs and warm tongue laving against her pulse, a creature of feeling and might more than mere flesh and bone. There was a time, a need, a feeling of being pulled and stretched throughout the room, squashed thin until she could blanket every corner and feed herself off the deliciously malignant energy.

Even the sacrifice was getting into the mood, his prick a planted flag gone straight and rigid.

“Well then,” Hermione’s words slurred against her ear, teeth nipping harshly against the shell as she touched her in between words, “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Bellatrix gripped the dagger tighter between her fingers, numbness racing through the handle towards her heart, “Yes, let’s.”

\---

Anticipation pooled to fill the open spaces of Bellatrix’s chest, her heart thumping loudly as blood rushed past her ears. The knife within her hold was just barely managing to balance above the sacrifice's chest, tittering and shivering in time with her own need. Hermione, ever present, reached a hand out atop her own as the runes began to pound magic through their hearts and through their souls .

One thrust, one single downward thrust was all it took and then her world exploded outwards into a cacophony of color and sound, the heady taste of iron pouring down her throat until it was all she could consume. Something, some small and tethered portion of her mind, _ snapped _ at the moment of penetration, broken free and sliced away like dry sticks pulled off a dead log.

Hermione convulsed where she sat behind her, strong muscles clenching and grinding until the arm around her waist was pushing sharp nails down deep beneath her skin, the hand clenched around her own beginning to spasm and dig down harder. They could both tell when the ritual reached its maxim, ascended to the zenith, the sudden feeling of being _ two _ where there had been _ one; _ four sets of eyes reporting to two minds all twisted and entangled.

She was struck with the insane need to pull herself backwards, the fear that this was the end, there was no going back, what she had done would be lost forever.

But she held steady.

Barely, but she did.

\---

Frigid hands woke her from the impromptu slumber that she had fallen into, mind waking to life just moments before nausea had the chance to do so on its own, all while her bare limbs shivered amidst the chilled aftermath of the spell. Frost covered the walls, spread across the floor, energy that had pooled all stripped clean to fuel their madness. The corpse itself was gone now, consumed wholly by the ritual, and Hermione remained as the only sense of warmth to be found within the space.

And Gods what a warmth she was.

The longer that she lay there the more her mind awoke to completion, the more she realized that success had been granted, given, her soul split apart and lodged into the sleeping form atop her. She could _ feel _ their shared heartbeat, their shared breath, shared minds, all sleeping desires proven through and given life.

She leaned up and shifted beneath the still slumbering witch, pulled her back and onto her lap in a twisted about pose that left Hermione’s back against her chest, body resting comfortably between strong arms that intended her to wake. Shifting murmurs, blinking eyes, soft lips on skin and teeth digging down into flesh; she could feel it all.

If this was waking, then Bellatrix would call it heaven, and deal with it forevermore.

\---

It took them hours to make their way back up through the twisting corridors of Riddle manor, and when they eventually stumbled in on Him it was with bloodied bodies and sweat slick skin, the runes and marks now silvered scars as a reminder to their completion. He held a newspaper in one hand, crystal class of brandy in the other, long limbs tucked upwards into a plush chair before a fire. His eyes were piercingly red and with sharp attendance they trained in on them as they stood there wrapped around one another, shoulders eased and bodies in tune as they moved as one.

“You were successful then?” His gaze deepened, newspaper falling gently into His lap and glass brought up to thin lips.

They nodded in sync, their words replying “Yes,” as one, heads twisting to stare at each other with magic-drunk grins pulling across their faces.

“Good,” He nodded once, “Then now we can begin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


End file.
